


Life Anew

by ApocalypticRepo



Series: Serendipity [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Brynjolf is an awesome uncle, Dawnguard, Dovahkiin the family man, F/M, Isran is a dick, M/M, Tonilia is a bitch, Vekel deserves better, Who kills dogs anyways?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:24:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypticRepo/pseuds/ApocalypticRepo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathaniel wants to retire and settle down with his daughters and hopefully Ronthil. But he still has one last menace to take care of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Anew

Honeyside wasn’t what he could call a ‘good place to live’ with the repeated break-ins from his thieves just because they felt the need to scare the piss out of his Housecarl (Brynjolf mostly), Maven Black-Briar banging on his door every other day when she knew he was in town demanding some sort of job done for either the Thieves Guild or the Dark Brotherhood (he hated the fact that she knew about the Dark Brotherhood bit meaning he’d have to have another chat with Nazir about it) or the town guards wanting to ‘search’ his home for ‘stolen items’ aka they wanted to shake him down for  _anything_  that could pin him with plenty of reported thefts, shakedowns and murders.

Not that they would  _find_ anything in his humble little home except the bouncing children that Nathaniel had come to call his own and they in return called him ‘Papa’. Two young girls, twins, Sissel and Britte were the subject of abuse from their overbearing father before his life was ended at the point of a dagger. Both immediately begged him to take them in and that he did, personally escorting them to his home in Riften where they’d be under the best protection from the Thieves Guild. Even Maven learned not to demean the twins lest she face the wrath of Brynjolf, Delvin and Vex. And they were his daughters.

He slipped into his house in the dead of night and curled into his warm bed. He was about to fall asleep when he heard the soft patter of bare feet on wood, only glancing up when he heard the light giggling of said daughters. He silently chuckled as to not disturb his exhausted Housecarl and pulled up the covers. “Welcome home, papa. Sorry to wake you,” Sissel apologized, shimming under the covers. Britte crawled in on the other side of him resting her head on his arm. Sissel copied her sister and both giggled when he drew his arms around them and pulled them in tighter.

“Never say sorry to me unless you mean it,” He reminded kissing them both on the forehead. Britte looked up at him annoyed that he was disturbing her attempts at sleeping cuddled up with her father making him smile sheepishly. They settled in for the rest of their night’s rest each taking a deep breath before allowing slumber to take them.

The next morning, they were awoken with a startled scream from Iona who was not expecting her thane to be returning in the dead of night and get in without him waking her up. She often forgot about his various skills of blending in to the shadows and get around without making a sound. He could walk around the house without making so much as a sound out of habit. “Get up, girls,” He exclaimed shaking both girls awake. They both groaned and tried to curl up in the warm covers and paw at the open space he had left to regain his body heat again. He chuckled and scooped them both up out of bed earning a few squeals and demands to ‘put me down’.

He finally put them down next to the table and moved to the cooking pot to make breakfast for his little joys. They both screamed out what they wanted while he promptly made them what they wanted, making himself a helping of eggs with a few pieces of cooked beef to appear normal to his daughters instead of the bloodsucking vampire he was. The girls dug into their meal with zest, excited that it was their father cooking for them instead of Iona’s miserable attempts (only when Brynjolf would stop in did they get almost as good of a meal as Nathaniel’s).

“So, how long are you staying this time?” Britte asked munching on a grilled leek.

Nathaniel stopped mid-chew at the question. He’d been bouncing back and forth between his home in Riften to Castle Volkihar so much that he’d lost track of time. He had tried to make him being gone easier by getting them a pet: finding Meeko and Sissel bringing home a rabbit. Meeko was old though and died a few years later, but had lived the last of his life loved by the two girls who adored him in return and by Nathaniel who enjoyed coming home and sitting by the hearth with Meeko curled around his feet. Almost a year. Almost a year of being a Vampire Lord and almost a year since he had taken over the castle. Less than nine months of enjoying his bed with Ronthil. And the Bosmer had to yet to even  _know_  about his daughters or anything about his family. He swallowed his mouthful of eggs and answered, “One more week. Then I’m going to go get something and then I’ll be staying for good.” He smiled as the girls’ faces beamed with happiness. They scrambled off their chairs and tackled him in a hug.

He pulled them in tight, smiling at their happiness that their father was going to be staying for good.

The girls tailed him as he walked around the market, purchasing and selling what equipment he had collected in his travels. Madesi was happy enough to purchase what necklaces and rings he had collected while Grelka scowled at him for daring to sell her items instead of buying them. Balimund greeted him warmly and offered for him and the girls to come around for dinner with him and his son, something that Nathaniel took a rain cheque on.

Maven stuck her nose up at him and he only proceeded to ignore her existence making her angry as he had a habit of doing. But she was the one person that she couldn’t touch using her usual methods since he was in control of her favorite means of disposing people. Mercenaries were dealt with swiftly with the skill of the Dragonborn and soon no one would take any contracts involving the Dragonborn due to the high body count he’d racked up. All in all, Maven was stuck with giving him attitude and unfortunately paying for someone else to suffer financially or ending their unfortunate lives. The girls even stuck their tongues out at the pious woman making her get flustered at their behavior.

Maramal caught him on his way to the Bee and Barb. “Nathaniel, my son, how are you this fine day!” He greeted lightly jogging up to the young man, Sissel and Britte.

“About to get an afternoon meal with my daughters. If you’ll excuse me…” Nathaniel tried to brush off the priest of Mara, but Maramal decided that wasn’t going to go as planned.

“Do you mind if I join you? I must inform you of some joyous news!”

“Talos preserve me…” Nathaniel grumbled and opened the door for the priest to step in first.

They took a table away from the rabble of Riften citizens, the girls each ordering a sweetroll each from Keerava who had mostly forgiven him for the shakedown he had to do a few years prior. After helping Talen-Jei make his ring as an apologetic gesture, she finally called him her friend once more. “My friend, I’ve been told that Dinya is with child!” Maramal proclaimed, unable to help the grin on his face.

Nathaniel nodded and muttered a ‘congratulations’ to the excited priest. “The doctor predicted that she will give birth during Last Seed. The month of Mara! I know her love is divine now and She has truly blessed me.”

“That’s great,” Nathaniel said without an ounce of interest in the topic. He didn’t care much for Maramal except that he did see over the marriages of a few of Nathaniel’s close friends such as Talen-Jei and Keerava so he played nice. Britte and Sissel often stared at him like he was nuts half the time (and most of the time Nathaniel would agree with the assumption).

“When are you going to settle down?” He asked bluntly making Nathaniel choke on his drink.

“What?!”

“You have two wonderful daughters, albeit not your own, but they have no parental figure permanently in their lives,” Maramal preached. “No mother.”

The girls bolted from their seats, screaming, “Uncle Bryn!”

Nathaniel quickly followed his daughters leaving Maramal behind to yell something about getting married to someone like Mjoll. Nathaniel laughed at the notion of marrying Mjoll since it would sooner be him marrying a hagraven (which almost happened… Damn Sanguine) than marrying the woman who is hell bent on taking down the Thieves Guild. He’s had a few marriage proposals, but he would flee before they could try and make him see ‘reason as to why they were a good match’ (the scariest by far being Camilla’s in Riverwood. He’s still avoiding Sven and Faendal).

But that also made him think of Ronthil, the Bosmer-turned that had shared his bed for many months. He was comfortable around him and Ronthil opened up to Nathaniel feeling the same level of comfort. He would even say they had become downright domestic with the way they acted with each other. He had never brought up the topic of children with Ronthil, but the he’d have to find out that he had two daughters eventually.

Ronthil was every bit apart of his life as Sissel and Britte were.

Brynjolf greeted him in a manner that no longer said ‘Teacher-Protégé’, but as brothers after Nathaniel asked him to be the surrogate uncle for his girls. He was ecstatic with the invitation and promptly burst into his home after the girls had settled announcing, “UNCLE BRYNJOLF HAS ARRIVED TO SPOIL HIS NIECES!”

Needless to say, the girls loved him.

“Glad to see you back in town, Lad,” He said carrying the girls on his broad shoulders.

Nathaniel chuckled and followed Brynjolf out of the Bee and Barb. “You know I’ll always come back. My greatest treasures are here!” He reached up and ruffled the hair of Britte who was closest in range. She whined and tried to fix her hair with only one hand since the other was secured around the top of Brynjolf’s head.

“Listen, Delvin may have a job or two for you, if you’re interested,” Brynjolf said nonchalantly.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’ve been thinking of retiring.”

Brynjolf stopped walking jerkily. Sissel and Britte struggled to prevent themselves from falling and readjusted themselves on his shoulders. “Are you serious, Lad?”

“Just hear me out, Bryn. I’ve been away from my family for far too long. It won’t be long before I completely miss out on them growing up. I didn’t adopt them for the heck of it. I adopted them because I was ready to be a father. To raise a family and since there wasn’t a world-ending crisis or the fate of a war riding on my shoulders, I felt it was time. But time and time again I get dragged off to deal with a vampire attack or a dragon roasting up on mountain peaks.” Nathaniel sighed, feeling the relief of getting that off his chest. “I’m tired and ready to settle down.”

Brynjolf nodded and glanced up at Sissel and Britte who were as shocked to hear this news as he was. Nathaniel watched the reactions of his family carefully before he felt a large hand clap against his back companionably. “My friend, my brother, if that is what you want: who am I to stop you? Besides, if you truly wanted me to agree, I’m sure you’d just use your powers on me.”

Nathaniel chuckled at the light jab at his vampirism. They wandered past the temple of Mara to the mausoleum entrance to the Thieves Guild still surrounded by Nightshade plants. Brynjolf set them down the girls and pushed in the lock mechanism, stepping back to allow the coffin to slide back. “Never did tell me who is in the coffin,” Nathaniel mused stepping down the stairs holding his daughters’ hands.

“Gallus now,” Bryn answered pulling the chain to close the entrance behind them.

“Finally put to rest.” He smiled knowing that the former Guild Master was given the peace he deserved.

Brynjolf pulled off the lid to the manhole and went down the ladder first to be able to help the girls down. Once they were safe inside the cistern, the girls darted around to antagonize anyone they could in their surrogate family. Rune became their target and soon he was running around the cistern trying to escape “the ferocious and powerful dragons”. Poor man.

Nathaniel and Brynjolf wandered over to the desk and looked over the ledgers for the profits so far, but most importantly: Nathaniel’s retirement fund that he had set up not only for himself, but for each member of the Guild. He had enough to sit pretty for the rest of his unnatural life (not that he’d have any trouble) and still have enough for the girls to be well off and cared for. They closed the log book and stuffed it back in the safe.

The Ragged Flagon was bustling with potential thieves and merchants looking to sell their wares to people they knew had coin to spend. Vekel even went as far as to hire an assistant named Ulfred to help him with getting drinks to people and cooking up food. He and Tonilia had finally broken up a year prior when she was caught spreading her legs for one of the Black-Briars and Tonilia was replaced with a new fence named Illia. Nathaniel sure didn’t miss her and actually cheered when he heard Tonilia was gone, the bitch. Illia was a sweet, but manipulative and slightly homicidal girl who was protective of the Guild and made sure  _no one_  was double crossed. She started to become attracted to Vekel (something Vex found hilarious) and soon the two were inseparable. Vekel got his wish of a girl who would slow down and live with him and Illia got someone who she could count on instead of being held down by the chains of society.

Vekel waved at them and planted to tankards of ale down for them. They sat down and each took a swig of the bitter drink. “So, where would you go? I assume you wouldn’t want to stay in Riften if you’re plannin’ on retirin’?”

“I still have property out in Falkreath and a Housecarl probably tired of the one bedroom house I had built so far. Could probably finish it and me and the girls could move out there and live in relative silence.”

Brynjolf hummed in agreement to the idea mentioning that a few of the townsfolk would be more than happy to help.

Nathaniel stared into the amber liquid in his tankard. He just had one last thing to take care of before he saw to his plan and before he saw to Ronthil. The Dawnguard would still hunt him and threaten his family if their leaders remained in place. He said a mild apology to Agmaer the frightened farm boy he had come across when he initially joined up with the Dawnguard for having to end his life early. Isran – he’d gladly tear out his throat for the attempt on his life multiple times.

He said his goodbyes to the Guild and took his daughters home for a night’s rest.

Before he knew it, the week was done meaning his plan was going into motion. He had spent much time at Balimund’s forge crafting enough arrows to take down a small army knowing he’d need it with the strength of the Dawnguard. The girls begged him not to leave, but he reassured them that he’d be coming back soon and with it a new life would begin for them.

He set off for Castle Volkihar when the sun was starting to set saying his goodbyes to his daughters and Iona.

* * *

 

The castle was eerily quiet, even for a place of such doom and gloom. On most nights, he could hear at least the constant chattering of the inhabitants inside – only he heard nothing but small sounds that he couldn’t place. It was night, so they wouldn’t be asleep and he for sure would hear Orthjolf and Vingalmo arguing (not that Vingalmo’s doing much of that these days). He took Bianca in hand and carefully walked to the entrance of the castle, noting the bloodstain on the door that wasn’t there before.

The Watchman laid clinging to life in the archway to his left, old and decrepit being unable to thwart the attackers’ advance. By the bolts sticking out of his chest, it was safe to assume the Dawnguard were behind this. He cursed silently – He was too late to put them down. And now they attacked the castle.

He shouldered open the door quickly and scanned the area with his crossbow. It smelled of congealed blood associated with vampires and the blood of an Orc - Durak. Just Durak meaning he was all they could kill before the Dawnguard overpowered them. He couldn’t smell anyone else so the other members of the vampire hunters were long gone. He shouldered his crossbow and darted down the stairs with only one person in mind: Ronthil.

Orthjolf was dead, as was Modhna and Rargal, in the great hall. CuSith was off to the side licking his wounds with an unhurt Garmr sitting next to him whining low because his friend was hurt. Everyone else was accounted for alive, with varying degrees of injury and being cared for by Feran who scrambled about with his side torn open, but healing. “What happened here?” He questioned Garan who was sitting on a chair nursing a head wound – probably from a shield. It was healing, but not as quickly from the special enchantments the Dawnguard placed on their weapons.

“I only went to see if you had returned. I opened the doors to your chambers and there were Dawnguard members. Next thing I know the whole castle is overrun with them, the cattle was set free and we’re struggling to hold them off,” He gave a brief summary of the situation. “They replenished their ranks under our noses it seems.”

He grabbed his shoulder and asked, “Where is Ronthil?”

Garan shook his head. “I’m sorry, my Lord. They figured they could use him as bait to lure you out.”

Nathaniel felt a lump in his throat at the news.

 _His_  Ronthil was in the hands of the very people trying to kill him and they were desperate enough to kill him to use the elf against him – his one blind spot. Well, they got his full undivided attention, but they still made the mistake of taking what’s  _his_.

“What about Serana?”

“She’s with her mother in the gardens. She was injured trying to save Ronthil.”

Nathaniel clenched his jaw painfully tight. “Garan, make sure everyone is accounted for, bodies are collected and given their due respects. And above all make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“Where are you going, my Lord?” Garan called after him as he stalked toward the doors leading to the garden.

“To check on Serana and Valerica. Then to get back what’s  _mine_.”

Garan bowed slightly as his head wound finally sealed shut.

Serana was no better than the rest, but the blood around her abdomen told a different story than the others: she’d been run through with a broadsword. “Serana!” Nathaniel called jogging down the stairs to the table Serana and Valerica were sitting.

“Where in the bloody Divines were you?!” Valerica hissed dangerous standing up sharply.

Her eyes glowing dangerously as her hands ignited with a simple flame spell, but knowing Valerica it would incinerate him from the inside out easily. “Not here, obviously!” Nathaniel responded before shoving her aside to kneel in front of Serana. “Are you alright?” He asked taking Serana’s hands from her abdomen.

She nodded. “It’s just taking a bit to heal,” She assured removing her bloodstained hands from his. “I tried to stop them, but they were too many in number. I did dispose of that Orc before I went down.” Nathaniel smiled at her stubbornness and kissed her head as a brother would his sister.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop this.”

“But knowing you, Nate, you’re about to go raze their stronghold to its foundations.”

“And take anything not nailed down.”

He stood up and lightly stroked her hair. For someone who was centuries older than him, she acted like she was younger than him. He chalked it up for her need to have a real family, even if it meant looking to him as a brother. A brother who killed her father, but a brother nonetheless. He was happy to see a sister in her since he was an only child himself. Valerica still disliked him, but since Serana seem to love Nathaniel – she tolerated him.

Feran gave him a brief nod as he passed by while he held a health potion to Fura’s lips. They had already brought the Watchman’s body inside laying it next to the dead and more vampires were on their feet once more from Feran’s work. Those that were on their feet stayed clear on his path – his bloodlust had already set in and ready to slaughter any who had hurt Serana and Ronthil. He couldn’t give a damn about anyone else, but the moment someone touched his closest friends, Serana, or Ronthil: someone was going to end up a corpse. Vingalmo was proof of that, simpering in the corner as he was.

* * *

 

Fort Dawnguard was dark, most of the lights dimmed, but he could hear the light clanking of their armor inside. They were prepared for an ambush, but they wouldn’t expect just one vampire to show up to kill them all. And he would do just that.

The ancient tongue of the Dovah burned in the back of his throat as he neared the doors. He disliked using his Thu’um since they gave him a mild headache after each use, but sometimes a man just had to burn down the door in a split second to catch them off guard.  _“Tol-Toor-Shul!”_  The command came out along with a blaze of an inferno that blew the doors off its hinges and incinerated the wood, bending the metal holding it together.

The Dawnguard inside did not know how to react until Nathaniel had stuck two bolts into two unexpecting heads of Beleval and Ingjard with his beloved Bianca. Then the attack was on as they feebly tried to defend themselves from the violent onslaught of damage Nathaniel was dishing out. Mogrul charged with his battle axe ready to cleave off Nathaniel’s head, but was met with air as the vampire seemed to disappear from his field of vision only to reappear behind him with his blade cutting through his spine.

Mogrul dropped and Gunmar and Celann took their chances against the angry and homicidal Vampire Lord. Celann swung his axe dangerously close to Nathaniel’s chest forcing him to take a step back only to respond by cleaving his sword into Celann’s leg. The victory was short lived by Gunmar’s ferocious shield smash. Nathaniel’s hand flew to his face to quell the bloody nose he received and Gunmar laughed at the small victory of being able to lay a strike on the Vampire Lord. “Draw my blood…” Nathaniel muttered before he vanished from sight.

Gunmar and Celann stood back to back in a small attempt to prevent any surprise attack, but it was for naught. Nathaniel reappeared just as his hands slapped over their heads and were brought together hard. Their skulls cracked on impact knocking them unconscious. Nathaniel put his boot to Celann’s throat and twisted – effectively snapping the Breton’s neck. Gunmar’s throat became the next place he stuck his boot when he heard the shout of, “STOP!”

Nathaniel glanced up, teeth bared and eyes glowing an angry red at Isran who had an axe close to Ronthil’s neck. Nathaniel’s breath hitched in his throat at the state of his lover: bruised on every piece of exposed skin with a degree of cuts and gashes from numerous blows that would make Nathaniel repay them by taking their lives for even  _daring_  to touch his Ronthil much less hurt him. “Let him go!” Nathaniel growled in a voice that was a mixture of his own and that of a Dovah.

“Drop your weapons, or I slit the boy’s throat!” Isran threatened allowing the blade to slice a sliver of a cut into Ronthil’s throat making him whimper at the burn.

“Slit his throat and you won’t live to see the light of day again,” Nathaniel growled fully aware of the other members of the Dawnguard slowly circling him. “You couldn’t just leave us well enough alone, could you?!”

“You vampires are all scum!” Isran shouted back. “I swore to eliminate your kind off the face of Tamriel. And I aim to do so. Ending your life will only make things easier!” Bianca was in his hand, itching to be raised and fired. The only thing keeping him from doing it was the fact that Ronthil was in the way and he didn’t want to hurt his beloved little elf. He shouldered the weapon in a slight defeat.

Ronthil was shaking like a leaf under Isran’s heavy arm. His hands were bound behind his back and covered so that he wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot off of any sort of magic before he burned his hands with the bag. Pain was not something Ronthil enjoyed inflicting on himself despite the damage he had suffered over the years of treatment. Between his teeth was a piece of metal to keep him from biting anyone. A collar – a  _fuckingmetal collar_  – was around the poor elf’s neck with a chain that was clasped tightly in Isran’s grasp. The cold unforgiving metal bit into the flesh that Nathaniel knew intimately and he could see small streams of blood seeping out from struggle and the repeated jerking Isran no doubt did to him.

Gunmar choked and writhed, reminding him of the Dawnguard hunter he had under his boot. With a twist, Gunmar’s neck snapped and he was dead. “GUNMAR!” Sorine screamed swinging her axe recklessly in his direction. His hand snapped up and caught her wrist making her scream in frustration trying to yank her wrist from his death grip. His other hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her clear off the floor.

“Drop the elf or the bitch dies,” Nathaniel warned, his claws digging slightly into her throat – enough to cause pain, but not enough to kill her. “Do you really want to lose any more members?”

Isran didn’t budge. Nathaniel growled and tore out her throat, throwing her on to the body of Celann. Pressed flat against his wrist was a knife he had snagged from Sorine’s armor. It was a half-ounce heavy on the end, but would do its purpose. He flipped the blade around skillfully out of view of Isran until he was holding the blade itself. “Divines take you!” Isran shouted and moved to slide the axe across Ronthil’s throat.

Nathaniel twisted his arm around to the front, the knife becoming an airborne projectile. Isran could barely register the knife, too focused on slitting Ronthil’s pulse point to watch him bleed out like a stuffed pig until the knife was mere inches away. He managed a gasp as the knife buried into his eye and pierced the intelligent brain he had killing him instantly.

The axe fell away and Isran dropped like a sack of potatoes. The chain linked to Ronthil’s collar was released and the little elf darted away from any who would try to subdue him again until he was enveloped with Nathaniel’s strong arms.

The Dawnguard remaining – Agmaer, Florentius, Ollrod, Tilde and Vori – stood witness to the man who had just killed their leader. Agmaer had resorted back to the scared farm boy, regretting ever coming here while the others fumbled for proper action against the Vampire Lord.

Finally it was Agmaer that led the pack in running for their lives out of the castle to save themselves from his wrath. Ronthil was in his arms in seconds in the now empty castle aside from the dogs they left behind who whined from their kennels somewhere in the castle. “I’m sorry,” Nathaniel whispered into the elf’s hair, kissing the soft locks repeatedly and inhaling Ronthil’s scent.

“No,  _I’m_  sorry,” Ronthil whimpered. “If I had been stronger, I wouldn’t have put you in this situation and the Dawnguard wouldn’t have tried to kill you and you wouldn’t have been in danger and I-”

Ronthil was cut off by Nathaniel all but devouring his mouth in a ferocious and needy kiss that claimed and loved at the same time and made Ronthil weak at the knees. Nathaniel only pulled away to pull off the chains, breaking them with inhuman strength that allowed Ronthil to finally wrap his arms around his lover’ neck. The collar came off last and thrown across the grand hall. “Thank you,” Ronthil muttered into Nathaniel’s neck.

Nathaniel lavished the elf’s poor marked up neck with delicate kisses and tentative licks to be rid of the blood staining his skin. The dog barking got louder and it was decided that Bran and Sceolang would come with them. The war dogs were wary of the vampire duo at first, but realizing that they were all they had left were happy enough for the attention Ronthil gave them.

They left the castle, leaving the dead to rot or until someone discovered them again. They walked with the dogs weaving around them and wandering a bit of ways away from them, but always coming back to walk at their sides. They stopped only to make camp when the daylight started to peek over the horizon. The cold morning brought them to bring Bran and Sceolang into their tent to curl up with for a bit of warmth.

Ronthil grinned as he scratched them behind their ears making them huff and their tails wag.

Nathaniel smiled at the scene. “We’re not going back to the castle yet,” He said, finally making up his mind.

Ronthil looked up at him quickly, his glowing eyes shining with curiosity. “We’re not?”

“No. There’s something I want you to see. And to maybe be a part of.”

Ronthil rolled over to look at the Nord fully. “Nate, what is it?”

Nathaniel bit the inside of his cheek. Now or never. “I have a family, safe and sound in Riften. Two young girls by the names of Sissel and Britte. They’re my life and you’re my life. I want you to meet them.”

Ronthil stared at him slack-jawed and for a moment Nathaniel thought he had scared Ronthil off with the mention of his kids, but quite the opposite happened. “I-I didn’t know you had kids. I’d love to meet them.”

Nathaniel drew him in close and kissed him affectionately before settling in to a decent morning sleep with the dogs slumbering next to them.

When they reached the town of Riften, it was still quiet. It was quite early in the morning so not even Balimund was awake and at his forge just yet. Only tired guards wandered around cracking a yawn or two as sleep threatened to creep up on them. Judging from the time and what Nathaniel knew of the guards: it was almost time for the next shift to take over.

Ronthil twitched nervously next to him, clasping his lithe fingers around Nathaniel’s. Nathaniel smiled and pulled him closer, unlacing their fingers in favor of wrapping his arm loosely around the elf’s shoulders. Ronthil took comfort in the gesture as his other hand found Bran’s head to scratch at to take his mind off of meeting Nathaniel’s daughters.

During the few days of travel, Ronthil peppered Nathaniel with questions of his daughters. First and foremost if they were indeed  _his_  (mildly relieved when Nathaniel told him they were adopted). Nathaniel told him all about Sissel and Britte: How Sissel was one for education and spent most of her time reading the vast amounts of books Nathaniel acquired. How Britte had a bit of a warrior’s heart who liked to play with wooden swords and dreamed of being a fierce warrior in service to a powerful Jarl. How Sissel had Hroar dangling around her fingertips already and more than once he’s had to chase off the young boy saying his daughter wasn’t up for grabs yet. He told him about their rough upbringing. Ronthil felt his eyes tear up after hearing that the poor girls were abused and kissing him when he said that he had killed their biological father to end the abuse once and for all. He told them about their favorite gifts and about their pet rabbit Cotton. Anything that Ronthil would need to get the girls to accept him, but Nathaniel reassured him that the girls would love him knowing that he made their father happy.

He opened the door to his home and stepped inside allowing the dogs to dart inside making Iona scream in fright. She stood behind the table with her sword extended toward the huskies while the dogs sniffed every nook and cranny of their new environment. She looked up at them and exclaimed, “My Thane! You’ve returned! Welcome home!”

She then realized that the dogs were with her Thane and sheathed her weapon, cautiously stepping out from behind the table. “Ronthil, this is Iona, my housecarl,” Nathaniel briefly introduced. “Iona, this is Ronthil.”

Iona smiled pleasantly and nodded in greeting. Ronthil nodded too who was a bit alarmed to find a woman living with Nathaniel, but relieved to hear she was just a housecarl. “Follow me,” Nathaniel said quietly and headed for the stairs. He followed obediently behind, staying close not out of fear of losing him but for a quick place to hide from his daughters should they not like him.

Sissel and Britte were curled up in their blankets sleeping soundly. Cotton started awake at the sound of the two entering the room and darted under Sissel’s bed. Nathaniel knelt between the two beds and gently shook them. “Girls? Daddy’s home,” He whispered.

They both groaned in their sleep and slowly started to wake up. Britte was the first to scream, “PAPA!” That caused Sissel to wake up as well and both jumped from their beds into his waiting arms.

He nuzzled them with affection and love as they giggled with happiness that he was home again. “Listen girls, I brought someone I want you to meet,” He said, setting them down so that they were looking at Ronthil who shifted nervously from one foot to another. He scratched at his elbow as the two scrutinized him and studied his demeanor, assessing and calculating their reactions to the elf.

“Are you going to be our new father?” Britte asked her head cocking to the side.

Ronthil flushed at the prospect of being a father to Nathaniel’s girls. “Uh… Um…” He stammered, his fidgeting getting progressively worse.

“Don’t scare the poor man. Go upstairs; Iona’s almost got breakfast ready.”

The girls both nodded and scurried around Ronthil. They were up the stairs in a heartbeat and all they heard was Iona yelling in frustration and telling them not to run. Ronthil was still bright red from his neck to the tip of his pointed ear. The tension in the air was so thick it was palpable that even the females upstairs were mostly silent to hear what would happen just below their feet.

“Sorry if my daughters were a bit… blunt,” Nathaniel said, crossing the room to the frozen elf. “But they weren’t going to sugarcoat anything.”

“I’m going to be their new father? Does… Does that mean…?”

Nathaniel let his hand grasp Ronthil’s lithe fingers, carding them with his own. “In my culture, wearing an Amulet of Mara is supposed to show that you are available for marriage. I always thought that was a weird custom since most marriages were a spur of the moment thing and normally end in misery. I’m not asking you to marry me if you aren’t ready for it, but I at least want you in my life more permanently. Living here. With me. And my daughters.”

Ronthil smiled bashfully and squeaked when Nathaniel brought him in close to kiss his mouth, allowing complete and utter submission to wash over him.

The girls showed Ronthil everything about Riften, dragging him around by his long fingers excitedly pointing out people and places. Ronthil was introduced to Balimund who gave him a big clap on the back for ‘managing to tie down Nathaniel’. Grelka showed the same indifference to him as she did Nathaniel as well but gave a brief half-assed smile when the girls introduced him as their ‘other papa’ causing him to flush red. Nathaniel only laced his fingers with his own making the red color reach the peak of his ears and to his chest.

Maramal didn’t even bother Nathaniel that day, only smiled approvingly at the elf, mostly oblivious to the fact that they were vampires, but that was a secret that only the Guild knew about (and perhaps Maven since she did find out about the Dark Brotherhood affiliation). He was chased out of sight by the two hounds trailing behind them who automatically decided they didn’t like the priest of Mara.

Nathaniel emerged from the washroom to see Ronthil standing in their bedroom when night rolled around, his usual sleep schedule messed up at this point since he wasn’t used to sleeping during the night. He couldn’t find any way to try and sleep through the night so that he could interact with his new daughters the next day. Normally, he and Feran would be about the lab conducting what experiments fancied the Dunmer-turned or running tasks for Garan. For the first time, he didn’t have anyone telling him a grocery list of things he needed to do or for him to get out of the way. He jumped when Nathaniel wrapped his arms around his thin waist, nipping affectionately at his neck and allowing his canines to graze his pulse point.

Ronthil shivered at the slight touch leaning heavily into the large Nord, pressing his butt against Nathaniel’s groin. He whined when his hands traveled from his waist to his hardening crotch, cupping him through his trousers. When his hands slid into the seam of his trousers, Ronthil’s hands flew to grip the Nord’s strong forearms as he stroked the Elf’s cock to full erectness. “M… My Lord!” Ronthil gasped bucking up into the hand. Nathaniel chuckled at the response he got and nipped at his pointed ear eliciting an involuntary moan.

Nathaniel’s spare hand trailed up Ronthil’s shirt and kneaded a nipple between his thumb and index. He writhed at the treatment shivering and gasping for air. Ronthil could feel his muscles tighten and relax rapidly in pleasure, wanting nothing more than the friction to continue. His fangs sunk into his lip to prevent himself from moaning too loudly to awaken the girls and housecarl sleeping below them, but Nathaniel could not have given any care to the three overhearing them.

Ronthil’s hands released the forearms when Nathaniel pressed him gently to the wall and he splayed his fingers across the wood paneling. “N-Nathaniel… Ah…” Ronthil whimpered, grinding harder against the cock pressed into his clothed ass. Nathaniel smirked at his little elf’s whines and please and pulled at Ronthil’s trousers. The trousers slid down his hips to his ankles and he kicked them away to start a pile of clothing that was sure to form. His underclothes quickly followed leaving him in just his night shirt.

Ronthil pushed off the wall only enough so that he could spin around to face his lover. Nathaniel capitalized on the change of position to hoist him up, making him wrap his legs around his waist. He nipped and bit at the exposed flesh of the Bosmer’s neck before sinking his teeth into his skin, enjoying the taste of his lover. Ronthil shivered from the delicious pain, grasping his shoulders to keep himself balanced.

Nathaniel reached between their bodies to undo the ties of his own breeches, letting them drop around his ankles. Ronthil smiled enthusiastically when the Nord’s hard cock emerged from its cloth prison and pressed against the cleft of his ass. Nathaniel pulled him off the wall and deposited him on the large bed much like their first coupling. Ronthil took his hand and drew the digits into his mouth running his tongue over the rough pads of his fingertips. Nathaniel sucked in a breath, watching his little elf worship the calloused fingers with his tongue, flicking at them much like honey nut treats.

Nathaniel watched as Ronthil nearly came undone beneath him when he pushed the first finger past the tight ring of muscle. He pushed back against the Nord’s hand in a desperate attempt to gain more friction as a second finger was added, then a third. Nathaniel purposely avoided that little bundle of nerves to send him soaring, teasing the elf relentlessly as he bit into his knuckle to avoid moaning loudly enough that the girls and the housecarl could hear. Always considerate.

Nathaniel removed his fingers and then aligned his cock with the elf’s puckered entrance. He wrapped his legs around Nathaniel’s waist, forcing him to enter him in one smooth motion. Eager little thing. He bit his lip, fangs sinking into the flesh to hold back the wanton moan that wanted to escape and Nathaniel licked at the blood that pebbled out. He grinded hard against Ronthil’s arse, then pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in. Ronthil arched off the bed, Nathaniel’s cock rubbing ever so sweetly against his prostate as he thrusted into him. “N-Nathaniel,” Ronthil gasped, digging his fingernails into the Nord’s broad and strong shoulders. Nathaniel gasped in slight pleasure from the pain, uncaring of the marks they would leave for a few hours.

Nathaniel pulled him off his back so that he wasn’t touching the bed at all, held up by the Nord’s upper body strength. The new angle made his eyes roll to the back of his head as Nathaniel seemingly bounced him on his dick deeper than before. Nathaniel smirked at the response and sunk his fangs into Ronthil’s neck. Ronthil couldn’t hold back his moans anymore, gasping out, “Oh Maker yes!” The victory was followed by the elf coming all over his and Nathaniel’s stomachs, his bones turning to jelly in an instant. He twitched as Nathaniel continued to pound into him, his skin and insides overtly sensitive from the orgasm.

Nathaniel felt that familiar coil in his lower abdomen before his own orgasm came, spilling inside his dear sweet little Ronthil, burying his face in the elf’s slightly tanned neck. He gently laid the sensitive Bosmer back on the bed, kissing lightly at the cum staining his stomach. Ronthil smiled at the treatment, his eyes drifting closed appreciatively.

Nathaniel reached over to the nightstand and grabbed an ordinary cloth that would suffice for the time being. He gently wiped down his exhausted and well-fucked lover who shifted into slumber. He gave himself the same treatment before disposing of the cloth in the fireplace. No need for his housecarl or his daughters to accidentally end up touching the spoiled cloth. He pulled the blankets out from under his naked Bosmer and curled it around them.

Ronthil awoke only long enough to bury himself in Nathaniel’s chest and sigh in the Nord’s embrace. “I love you…” He muttered before sleep took him again.

Nathaniel smiled at his little elf. He loved Ronthil, truly. Only thing left was to ask him to marry him. But that was for another day. Tonight, he would enjoy his time holding lover in his home with his daughters sleeping soundly in their beds and his housecarl still sane to greet him dutifully.

Also the decision of where to move their little family.


End file.
